


it is not for us to greet nor bid farewell

by Issay



Series: Character Studies [7]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flint-centric, Future Fic, Historical Inaccuracy, Internalized Homophobia, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 16:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4713392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Issay/pseuds/Issay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How do you forget all this? How do you erase the way you've been living for so long, things you've believed in your whole life?"</p><p>Trigger warnings inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it is not for us to greet nor bid farewell

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fusion of the story shown in the tv series and historical facts. I have no way of knowing how showrunners want the show to end so there is a possibility of huge spoilers - know that fates of Charles Vane, Blackbeard, Calico Jack and Anne Bonny depicted in this story are historically accurate. The rest of it is not (including what happened to Nassau).
> 
> Trigger warnings: this work mentions and implies suicide and suicidal thoughts. It also implies internalized homophobia and self-hate of a character.  
> If this may upset you, please, take a warm virtual hug from me and close this tab.
> 
> Title from wonderful poem "Elegy of Fortinbras" by Zbigniew Herbert (translation found on Poem Hunter).

When the smoke settles after all that was to be said and done was screamed and abandoned - Thomas' nightmare of a vision comes to life. James regrets it. He knows the thought that was once given voice to by beloved lips, sees it twisted and scarred and altered in ways unimaginable to his mind - and regrets with all his might. He looks down at Nassau. The city is in ruins, scattered on the beach and only lone figures still haunt the ghost of a place it once was. Then his sight passes the new governor's palace, the only new building in Nassau, and wishes he had a cannon or two. Yes, England returned to New Providence, just as he predicted. She fell upon the nation of pirates like a harpy wishing for vengeance.

He knows that somewhere out there, in Jamaica, the entrance to a port is guarded by two hanged captains. Fleetingly, he wonders what words had Vane and Rackham exchanged, awaiting their own executions. Had they argued? were bitter words exchanged? Did they blame him?

Flint knows that he is to be blamed. He embraces the weight of this knowledge.

For a moment he thinks of Anne Bonny - she wasn't hanged with her lover, word is she claimed to be with child and because of that, let go. Did she watch Jack fight for the last breath of air with hate in her heart? Did the fearless, unbroken by life on sea Anne Bonny cry?

Hornigold died with the Nassau itself, his body still buried somewhere underneath the rubble. He refused to leave the city when the Royal Navy stood on anchor just outside the harbor.  
"Maybe, in the end, he was the best man of us all," muses Flint quietly, watching the sun drowning in the sea on the horizon. "Or maybe just the most stubborn one."  
Blackbeard is dead. They've heard it just before the fall of Nassau and pirate republic. Some say it was his pride that led to his demise, others - that he had angered the gods of the sea and the favored son finally fell, his head guarding the Charleston port now. Taken out by a crew hired by fucking merchants. How mighty have fallen.

"This is the end of the age of piracy, isn't it?" asks Silver from somewhere behind Flint, most probably sitting on the rubble of what used to be a fort, sprawled on hard stones like it is the most comfortable seat in whole world.  
Flint shrugs.  
"It is the end of something," he says after a while. The moon is small and darkness covering the island starts to thicken. But the black of night isn't what people of Nassau fear. Not anymore. They know better now. "The way I see it, we have two options. Either go back on the ship. burn a few villages, pillage some ports and, in the end, join Vane on gallows and serve as a warning for the passing ships. Or we can forget."

"How do you forget all this? How do you erase the way you've been living for so long, things you've believed in your whole life?"

Flint thinks about the muddy streets of London, about the evenings filled with chatter in the salon of Hamilton house. About two people he loved more than anything in this world and finds that he cannot remember how Thomas' voice sounded like. Or the color of Miranda's eyes, her favorite dress, how her perfume was sweet but he cannot recall the scent.  
"The same way you forget everything else," he answers. "With time."  
When captain - captain Flint - James McGraw - James turns around, he sees that he's alone on the rubble of Nassau.

*

There is a space between light and dark, between sleep and harsh reality of yet another day. It's a good place to be, a safe one and filled with things warm and comfortable, things he cannot fully recognize but knows how they feel like. James smiles, not yet awake but already not asleep.

He smiles because there are warm arms surrounding him and a strong, familiar heartbeat under his ear. Slowly, carefully he slides his fingers through the mess of sweat, come, oil and spit, nostrils filling with well-known scent.  
"It's not real," he murmurs, disappointed. Underneath him, Thomas' chest rumbles with a quiet chuckle.  
"It's as real as it can be. At least, for now."  
James opens his eyes and looks at Thomas with confusion. The man is an image to behold, lips still swollen from kisses, hair mussed by short hours of sleep. Something in James' gut coils tightly, so tightly it hurts because he missed this, God and Satan themselves cannot tell how much, and it is so bitter to have this now. Now, when he had lost everything.

Thomas' deep blue eyes are filled with patience and endless love.

James opens his eyes again and sees only dirt white ceiling.

*

In his heart, he knew this would end like this. But it was so hard to fully imagine, at least up until now. In some sense, he thinks, there's a poetry to that. Fate choking on its own tail.  
_They are coming for you_ , says the note one of his past crew members slipped him in the tavern in Tortuga. Flint has made his peace with the possibility that England will want her rebellious son, that she will seek for him. He waited for something like this and he is grateful, really grateful that it is finally going to happen.

Flint - James - the dead man walking ends his drink, tips the barmaid and with a small smile on his face goes to the room he has been renting for the last few weeks. Once inside, he bars the door with a chair, nothing a strong man would not be able to go through but he refuses to go without showing resistance. Then from the inside of his trunk he takes two items that waited patiently for their turn.  
He touches the front cover of the book, fingers lovingly stroking reddish leather, and he reads the dedication. With the last parting kiss to the writing he knows by heart, he throws "Meditations" to the roaring fireplace.  
"Know no shame," he murmurs with a tender smile. "No, I suppose there is no shame in that."

If his fingers tremble a little when he braids the rope, the silents walls will never say.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Find me on tumblr!](http://issayscorner.tumblr.com/)


End file.
